


Rosalie Ruins Dinner

by Shamhat



Series: A Word From The Sidelines [1]
Category: Twilight
Genre: Badass Rosalie Cullen, F/M, Gen, Protective Alice Cullen, Twilight Renaissance, We’re roasting Edward for dinner, might as well, protective Rosalie Cullen, twilight fic in 2020?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:49:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27524128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamhat/pseuds/Shamhat
Summary: “Is it hunger? Simple hunger that sets him sniffing at a young girl’s hair like a weirdo? Rosalie can smell her just fine and the good people at Bath and Body Works have yet to make a scent that truly compliments the body chemistry of anyone, much less a sweaty teenager. Edward thinks they’re monsters, creatures made of base urges.So is anyone. What is his excuse?”-The dinner scene from the first book at the Cullen house, but Rosalie has some THOUGHTS.
Relationships: Edward Cullen/Bella Swan, Emmett Cullen/Rosalie Hale
Series: A Word From The Sidelines [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2011699
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Rosalie Ruins Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be part of a larger ultimately funny series of fics where Bella gets to be a little shit/ regular teenager. I hope you’ll stick around for the rest as they come. I loved twilight when I was in middle school, became too cool for school when the movies came out, loved them ironically, and now it’s 2020, and anything can and will happen. I feel nostalgic. So let’s sit down and stare ms Stephanie directly in the eyes and get wild.

The trouble with this guy, Rosalie thinks, is that he really believes that being able to hear people’s thoughts is the same as understanding people. A man with the emotional range of a teenager who only watches teen dramas. That, she thinks, is what comes of going to and from high school and only playing the piano as a hobby. Rosalie left the house often, with her husband or not. She went to concerts, she visited museums, she joined local clubs, she signed up for interesting classes, she volunteered with that little charity group in town that collected formal dresses for underprivileged girls.

Hunger? She’d grown up having food tut-tutted out of her hands. Denying herself blood is nothing to being kept from the world and denying she wanted better.And though she is smarter than surely anyone in the room, as she stands tossing a salad she can’t imagine enjoying she is baffled by the sixteen-year-old girl in her kitchen and the people, older than this child’s grandparents flitting around her play-acting as though she really were meeting her little boyfriend’s family. Rosalie understands most men on a forensic level. She had not figured children to be this man’s type, not when he had died a virgin and forgone women and men both for nearly a century. 

He scowls. 

Rosalie makes brief eye contact with Alice. Rosalie could do something about all of this. She could scream her head off she feels the phantom scrape of it up her throat. This sour-smelling wet bowl of leaves could go right out the window, she could very easily toss the fork ended salad tong right into the little girl’s throat.

Edward growls subvocal, attention fully on her.

Good.

He’s in her face, wild, and just as suddenly Emmet, smiling, gentle Emmett is holding him back easily with one loose hand.

Is it hunger? Simple hunger that sets him sniffing at a young girl’s hair like a weirdo? Rosalie can smell her just fine and the good people at Bath and Body Works have yet to make a scent that truly compliments the body chemistry of anyone, much less a sweaty teenager. Edward thinks they’re monsters, creatures made of base urges. 

So is anyone. What is his excuse?

Her mind flashes with vicious and cruel memories, old enough to be dulled by a better life. 

A ruined wedding dress.  
Tearing hands.  
A young beautiful bride.  
Hunger and cruelty as human as greed.

She’s known this man since they were both actual teenagers. She knows he’s only self-flagellating so he can feel better when he goes ahead and eats a little girl’s life anyway. When he steals her time, her growth, her future, her body, her mind, the people she might know, and the relationships she might have.

Pretending to care wouldn’t make it better. He is a dirty old man copping a feel on a bus. He is a whistle in a dark alley. His monstrosity does not come from superhuman strength or the need for blood, his monstrosity does not come from being reforged by hellish magics into a ghoul with perfectly symmetrical features.

He is exactly himself, as he would be without supernatural help.

He winces and turns to search out the girl’s face, to see what she must think of this strange unspoken conversation. 

Rosalie grins her real grin, the mean one. In addition to being a creep, Edward is also an idiot.

Emmett, beloved, good Emmett smiles the way he did when she watched him, human and smug with a winning hand. He hadn’t needed to ask what she was doing, he kicks out Edward’s legs from under him and sits on him. Emmett understands her completely.

Edward is...slavering. Throwing a fit as though he’s rabid. His legs scrabble on the floor, trying and failing to buck Emmett. Vampire strength or no, he’s a twig who died of influenza. It’s not about to work.

Carlisle and Esme speak to him, calling his name in gentle, calming tones. 

Sometimes when she thinks about her life she wonders what makes her feel the need to clean up this guy’s mess. Did a near-century of proximity really forge bonds so deep? People need to stop saying she’s not nice.

She presses her heel to his cheek and holds his face firmly to the parquet flooring.

“Would you collect yourself? You have a law degree. You’re ruining the floors.” 

His clawing hands stop.

“Where is she?” He says, indulgently panting.

“Why the hell would I know?” Rosalie says. He flails his skinny little bug arms around again and roars.

**Author's Note:**

> Make no mistake I love this shit.


End file.
